It'll be a day like this one,
by ScaredandConfused
Summary: when the world caves in. It was just a normal day, until John Paul returned to his flat. JPK.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - Big angst warning, small violence warning. I wrote this after hearing about JS leaving, which is why it is so angsty. Also, I don't own HO, charater's/SLs/blahdiblah.

The title comes from a Switchfoot song, called 'The Blues' (www . youtube . com/ watch?veX0hHCLynPc)

* * *

**It'll be a day like this one, when the world caves in.**

John Paul McQueen was in turmoil. He had walked into the Dog that evening, where he was supposed to be meeting his fiancé, Kieron Hobbs, but he had seen a different person instead. Craig Dean. He had managed to avoid his ex-lover's sight, quickly getting a pint from his sister, Mercedes, and electing to drink it outside. The early evening sun was still warm, what with it being early September, and it was a very pleasant place to wait for Kieron.

But three hours had passed since then. His sister, whilst collecting glasses, had brought him another pint, and informed him that Craig was still working behind the bar. And Kieron still hadn't shown; he was over three hours late, without a phone call or a text, and that was very unlike Kieron. John Paul checked his phone again. He quickly dialled Kieron's number, but the phone rung, and rung, and then went to voicemail, John Paul hanging up without leaving a message. He had left enough of those already this evening.

_Should he head back to the flat?_ he thought to himself, _or stay here? Should he even go and talk to Craig? _He quickly dismissed the thoughts of Craig from his mind. He couldn't go and speak to him now, not whilst he was annoyed with Kieron. He couldn't trust himself, not around Craig Dean, and he hated that.

Another hour, and another pint, later, John Paul finally decided to head back to the flat he shared with Kieron, and their friend Niall. _Niall_, he thought to himself, _Niall had been a little off with him and Kieron since they had become engaged._ John Paul couldn't understand why he wasn't happy for them. He thought back to that morning, at breakfast. Kieron had said he had something to tell John Paul, but that it would wait until later. That was why he had wanted to meet John Paul for a drink in The Dog. John Paul suddenly had a thought; Kieron had said he was going to speak to Myra that afternoon, before his drink with John Paul.

John Paul quickly thumbed through his phone, and found 'Home', the name his mother's home number still held. He rung it, and was glad when his Mum, as opposed to one of his nosey sisters, answered it.

"Hi Mum"

"John Paul?"

"Yea, um, I was wondering if you had seen Kieron today, only he mentioned he was going to see you, and I wondered if he had. Seen you."

"What's up, John Paul, you're rambling at a thousand miles an hour."

"Nothing, just, did Kieron come and see you today."

"No, he didn't love."

"Oh."

"Was it something important?"

"I don't know, he just, he said he needed to see you, and then after that he had to tell me something. I don't know. Um…"

Myra cut him off. "Whatever it is you're worrying about, don't you think you should talk to Kieron about it?"

John Paul's silence answered his mother's question.

"I'll speak to you tomorrow, John Paul."

"Alright, Mum. 'Bye."

John Paul hung up, and looked up. He hadn't realised which direction he had been walking in, but he found himself staring at the bold number 3 on the front door of the flat. As he turned his key in the lock, he could hear the TV playing in the living area. It sounded like football.

"…and Gallas passes to Fàbregas"

_Oh, so the Gunners are playing_, thought John Paul, as he pushed the door open. _Still not a valid reason to stand me up though._ It was then that John Paul realised that Kieron hadn't stood him up.

Later John Paul would regret thinking Kieron had stood him up, regret waiting so long before leaving the pub, regret not coming back to the flat earlier in the day, regret not ringing his mother earlier, regret dismissing Kieron not answering his phone. But at that moment, there were no regrets in his mind. In fact there were no emotions in his mind. He felt only one thing, as he pushed the door open to reveal the true reason why Kieron hadn't met him at the Dog.

Numb.

He felt numb.

He couldn't find the words or the thoughts to express himself as he walked into the flat.

He couldn't find the words or the thoughts as he walked towards Kieron; he felt numb. But his body had reacted, because he was crying.

Sobbing.

Tears were running down his cheeks, and he let out strangled sobs, but he didn't even notice. He knelt down next to his lover, who was lying on the floor, his head surrounded by blood. There was a frying pan not far from Kieron's body, but John Paul didn't notice.

The only thing he saw, the only thing he knew with any certainty, was that his lover was dead.

Kieron was dead.

Motive, and murder weapons, and forensics would all be dealt with later, by the police, but those things didn't concern John Paul. He didn't care about the how, or the why, or even how long ago it had happened; the only thing he cared about was that Kieron was dead.

He might have been sobbing, but inside he was still numb.

Inside, he was struggling to comprehend the reality of the situation.

Was he dreaming?

Was this all just a terrible dream?

Some fiction, some twisted nightmare, some horrendous figment of his demented imagination.

It took all the courage John Paul had to reach out and touch his lover's face. He put his palm to Kieron's cheek, and then he knew.

He knew this was all real.

He knew Kieron was dead.

His tear began to fall faster and faster, even though he wouldn't have thought it possible.

His sobs were so strangled that he could barely breathe; but he wasn't sure that he wanted to anymore.

He didn't think he would ever breathe again; it felt like a part of him had died. It felt like someone had ripped into his chest, and torn his heart out, shattering it into a million tiny pieces.

As John Paul's tears fell from his face, mixing with the blood surrounding Kieron's head, he started to remember snapshots of their time together. It had only been short, less than a year, but he had so many happy memories of them together.

The first time Kieron had kissed him, when they were both drunk, after the catastrophe that was the Fashion Show. He hadn't ever imagined that someone so confident, so out-going, so truly amazing, could ever like him. His post-Craig relationship life had been filled with meaningless one night stands and scumbags. But then Kieron had kissed him, and his life had changed. He had never thought he deserved another shot at love, and yet here one was.

But Kieron was a priest. And John Paul didn't want another secret relationship. So he had tried to hide his feelings, asked Kieron to do the same. But everyday had become harder, as he fell further and further in love.

And then the day of the fun run, and the night that followed it. He had been stupid enough to think he might still love Craig. If his ex-lover had returned to Hollyoaks then, instead of now, would things have been different? John Paul didn't even care. He tried to force himself to forget how foolish he had been, telling Kieron that he had broken his vow of celibacy for nothing, after that night. But it hadn't been for nothing; that was why John Paul had been so scared. So scared he had pushed Kieron out of his life.

And a month later, he had been given a second chance. And then a third, when he had screwed up again. And since then, life might not have been easy, but he wouldn't have wanted anything else. Because he was in love. There was no past tense about it, not yet. He was in love with Kieron Hobbs; still loved him with all his heart.

His mind drifted to that day when Kieron had turned up on his doorstep, with the black eye. Kieron's smile, the way it lit up his eyes, and the way he laughed with his eyes as well. _The way he used to laugh_, his mind corrected him, as the tears, which had started to slow, sped up again. He couldn't believe he would never see the life behind those eyes again.

His eyes moved down from Kieron's eyes, to his lips. Those lips. Those lips he had kissed a thousand times, but would never kiss again. Short secret kisses, stolen whilst no one was watching; long private kisses, that sent shivers up and down his spine. John Paul remembered the last time they had kissed, at breakfast only that morning. But the more he tried to remember, to savour that moment, the further away it seemed.

He'd thought he'd have a million more moments to savour, a million more memories to make.

He'd thought they would be together forever. It had been the thought at the forefront of his mind, when he had impulsively asked Kieron to marry him.

They had plans.

_They had had plans._

They would never realise them now.

But today was just another normal day. They had woken, together, in bed. Showered, together. Eaten breakfast, together. John Paul had never needed someone in his life like he needed Kieron. He would have spent all his time in the four walls of the flat if he could, simply spending time with Kieron, eating with Kieron, watching TV with Kieron, just being with Kieron. It made him feel complete. Whole in a way he had never felt before. But he had needed some new records, and Kieron had wanted to see Myra. So they had gone their separate ways, and arranged to meet for a drink in The Dog later. Play some pool, simply hang out. Be together.

It had been a normal day

_It'll be a day like this one. When the world caves in._

It wasn't normal anymore.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Part two

John Paul didn't know how long he had knelt there, by Kieron's body. It could have been minutes, or hours, or even days: time didn't mean anything to him anymore. Nothing mattered to him anymore.

He didn't know when he had stopped crying, but the tears had now run dry. Instead, he was sat in silence, staring at the man he loved.

Logic and reason were slowly making there way into John Paul's mind, creeping into his thoughts, slowing ebbing away the despair. He looked at the frying pan, and Kieron's dented skull, and the blood surrounding his head. _Who would do such a thing to Kieron?_ The TV was still there – it was still on – as was the PlayStation, so it couldn't have been one of those 'burglaries-gone-bad' that you hear about from time to time.

_But what did that mean?_

_That this was pre-meditated?_

_That there was someone out there who wanted to kill Kieron?_

Kieron, the nicest, most helpful, well-mannered, conscientious man John Paul had ever met? He used to be a priest, not some crime lord.

_Who would want to hurt Kieron?_

It was at that moment that John Paul heard a key turning in the lock. He didn't know it yet, but he was about to be confronted by the answer to his question.

He didn't look to see who it was, not at once. In the kitchen, where it was just himself and Kieron, John Paul might have been able to believe that this was just a fantasy. Or even believe that the world was over. It was. His world i_was_/i over, at least for now. But there were other people in this world; another person lived in this flat. Another person who had just shattered his despair. Sooner or later he would have to face reality; apparently that moment was now.

As he lifted his head, as he watched Niall walk towards him, into the kitchen, he knew none of Niall's plots and plans. He did not know that it wasn't Kieron that Niall had been trying to hurt; Kieron had merely been collateral damage. It had been John Paul that Niall had been trying to hurt the most. John Paul; Niall's younger brother, although only the older man knew that fact. As he turned his face back towards Kieron's, John Paul didn't notice that the expression on Niall's face change from a practiced façade of concern, into one of glee.

The older man stood in silence, looking at the scene in front of him for a few moments, before finally speaking.

"John Paul…"

Silence. John Paul didn't even move.

"John Paul?" Niall was more insistent this time, but again he was et by a silent, unmoving John Paul.

"John Paul, I think we need to call someone."

When Niall's third attempt still receive no response, he pulled out his mobile phone, quickly dialling 999.

He asked the operator for an ambulance, and the police. His voice was very controlled and calm, and even though John Paul was crying again, his attention fixed on Kieron, his subconscious mind had noted it. It was something he would come to remember later, another piece of the puzzle he was yet to solve.

The police arrived first. John Paul didn't even notice them. He didn't notice them talking to Niall, or staring at him. He didn't notice the paramedics when they arrived, either. He only became aware of all the people now standing in the flat, when they tried to move Kieron.

"No."

It had been the first word he had spoken aloud in almost two hours. Two hours of despair, torment, and unceasing sadness. Two hours of grief, anguish, and infinite heartache. Two hours of pain, misery and never ending hopelessness.

Two hours of silence.

And now, they were trying to take his Kieron away.

John Paul wouldn't let them. He grabbed onto Kieron's hand and refused to move. He didn't even take his eyes away from Kieron's face.

"I'm sorry, we have to move him. We have to take him to the hospital." The clear, calming voice of a female paramedic told him.

"No," reiterated John Paul, his voice breaking. He swallowed, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

"But he's dead. Why do you have to take him to the hospital?" It was the only question he wanted an answer too; why were they taking his Kieron away from him?

"We have to perform a post-mortem." John Paul finally looked up at the paramedic, meeting her eyes. She read the question look expertly. "The police want to know how he was killed. We need a doctor to examine him, and sign some forms." Her voice was meant to be reassuring, but there was only one part of her reply that John Paul paid any attention too.

"You want to know how he died!" John Paul screamed. From somewhere inside him, anger was boiling. "He was hit in the head by a fcking frying pan. That's how he fcking died!!"

The paramedic looked at him with an understanding smile. He hated that. He hated that Kieron was dead. He hated that he didn't even know when it had happened. He hated that he wasn't there, that he couldn't have stopped it somehow, and he hated that. He hated all the people around him, trying to take Kieron away from him. And he hated that sodding paramedic, and the way she was acting like she understood his pain.

He was so angry, that he had been completely blinded to the fact that looking at him, studying him so intently, from across the room, was a man he hadn't seen in nearly a year.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N I know nothing about police murder inquiries, so I made a lot of this chapter up. Hopefully it works...

**Part ****3**

The knock on the door stirred John Paul from his stupor. He had been staring blankly at the ceiling of his room at the McQueen house. The police had decided the flat was a crime scene, and the forensics people were still there, searching for clues. He had been told he could go back there in a week, but only two days had passed so far since Kieron's death. Two days that felt like an eternity. He still burst into tears at random moments. He was still trying to contemplate the fact that Kieron was dead; he hadn't moved on to imagining how he could possibly cope without Kieron in his life.

He ignored the knock on the door.

The person at the door knocked again.

John Paul decided that he had better go and see who it was, knocking on his door. In the two days since Kieron had died, he had hardly moved. Hardly slept. Hardly ate. And he hadn't answered the door to anyone, no matter how many times his family had tried. He had locked his door, and only ventured out when he thought the house was quiet.

As he dragged his body over to the door, the knocking began again. He thought it was strange; it wasn't the incessant knocking of his mother, or even the determined knocking of his sister Jacqui, who had tried and failed to visit him, once. Rather, it was an authoritative knock; that of someone who knows they have a right to be let in.

John Paul opened the door with a sign surprised to be greeted by PC Calvin Valentine, his future brother-in-law, and a female detective. Calvin had obviously been the one knocking since his fist was still raised as John Paul pulled the door open.

"John Paul McQueen?" asked the DI.

John Paul looked at Calvin questioningly. The address was very formal, and besides Calvin knew his name. Why did the stupid detective have to ask him?

"Can we come in?" Calvin's voice was more gentle, although it was still laden with authority.

John Paul merely nodded, pulling the door further open, and walking back over to his bed, which he sat down on.

When both police officers had found chairs, and sat down opposite John Paul, the detective began to speak.

"We have some information regarding the death of Kieron Hobbs."

John Paul was startled by her abrupt tone. Her total lack of an introduction to this conversation. He knew immediately that she didn't like him, although he was unsure of why that might be.

Calvin was also slightly startled. He knew he was practically a member of John Paul's family, so it went against the book for him to be here, but this DI, this women he had only met a week ago, was the one breaking all the rules. She had seemed nice enough when they had first met – she was a transfer from Surrey, or Sussex, somewhere down south – but when she had asked him to accompany her today, because he knew John Paul, he had thought it strange. Normally this type of meeting was conducted by a detective and a family liaison officer not a uniformed PC. But he did know John Paul, maybe it would be better this way, but now? Now, he didn't know.

Calvin glared at the DI, and then spoke. "John Paul, Kieron wasn't killed by a blow to the head with a frying pan."

It was John Paul was taken aback. Not killed by the frying pan? By all the blood surrounding his head when he had last seen him? He was more confused than ever.

The detective tried to explain.

"The autopsy showed that the skull fracture wasn't sufficient to cause the bleeding Kieron suffered. It would have caused unconsciousness, but it would not have been fatal."

John Paul didn't know what to say. Too many questions were forming themselves in his mind; he didn't know which to ask first. What did she actually mean? Was the frying pan he had found in the kitchen simply a coincidence? Kieron's head had defiantly had blood coming from the side of it and a large strangely shaped dent. But if that hadn't killed him, then how had he died?

The detective decided to continue her explanation.

"Mr Hobbs was killed by a stab wound to the neck. The pathologist found a wound which indicated the killer had severed his carotid artery. It would have been sufficient to cause fatal blood loss…" The detective continued, but John Paul had not taken anything in other than the first sentence. Kieron had been stabbed?

John Paul was speechless. He had tried his best not to think about how Kieron had died – it only reinforced the reality of the situation – but he had thought, in the far reaches of his mind where he let such thoughts occur, that Kieron had died because he had been hit on the head with a frying pan. Now he found out Kieron had been stabbed. A blow to the head might have been accidental. A stabbing, surely, wasn't.

"… which is why we are treating this as two separate inquiries."

John Paul looked at the DI, extremely confused. He had stopped listening to her until the very end of her speech, but what he had caught from the end of the sentence she had said this was two _separate_ inquiries.

Calvin decided to intervene. He could tell John Paul was falling to grasp the reality of the situation, and he knew he had to explain it to him again.

"John Paul?" When John Paul looked at Calvin, the policeman knew he had his attention. "We think that the person who hit Kieron over the head was not the same person who stabbed him. We have reasons to believe that Kieron was hit over the head first, in a separate incident. It may have knocked him unconscious, the pathologist, the doctor who examined him, was unsure. He was then stabbed, sometime later."

What Calvin didn't want to tell John Paul, was that the pathologist had been convinced that Kieron had been conscious when he had been stabbed. The pathologist had told the police that there was signs of two clearly separate struggles, and that Kieron had obviously been confused during the second. If the stabbing had been to ensure that Kieron was dead, after the murderer had hit him with the frying pan, there would have been only on pattern of cuts and bruises. Calvin didn't know how the pathologist could tell such things, but apparently he was good at his job, so Calvin had no reason to doubt him. He had also neglected to mention to John Paul that the knife block in the kitchen of his flat was missing a knife, a knife which hadn't been found elsewhere in the apartment. The police were convinced that this had been the murder weapon, especially since the set it belonged to suggested it would be the correct size.

It was far too much for John Paul to deal with, and he was crying again. Now he had discovered that Kieron had been stabbed, it brought back all the emotion he had been hiding from. The police could care about all their investigating if they wanted. He just wanted to be left alone.

Calvin could see that the DI wanted to ask John Paul further questions, probably about the missing knife, but instead he motioned to her that they should go.

As they walked out of the room, John Paul didn't move. He simply sat, quietly on his bed and waited for them to close his door. It was because he chose not to move that his next visitor, the person who had witnessed his conversation with the female paramedic two days earlier, was able to get in.


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter is mostly in flashback, and from the POV of a different character to before. It is deliberate that you don't know who 'he' is. Made it hard to write though. Still not sure if I'm happy with it, but here it is anyway.

As always, I own niente.

Part 4

He was about to knock on the front door of the McQueen house, when two police officers, one wearing uniform, the other, plain clothes, opened the front door and walked out. i_Guess that explains the police car out the front,_/i he thought. He hesitated as he watched the police officers walking back to their car. He wasn't sure why he was here. Two days ago, he had knocked on this front door. He had spoken to Myra, who had been somewhat surprised to see him, and she had given him John Paul's new address. When he had found out John Paul had moved out of his family home, and into a flat with his fiancé, he had been surprised, but he had been even more surprised when he had heard his name: Kieron. When he arrived at John Paul's new flat, however, he had found a different story.

--Flashback--

He looked down at the piece of paper Myra had given him. It showed a vague map, an address and some directions. Left, second right, third left; should take him to Smithy Road. So why was he on Highfield Way? The vague map showed a school, maybe he should try to find that.

He'd been wandering about for a hour, before he eventually found Smithy Road. It had been the third right, and then the second left, from the McQueen house, not the second right and the third left, as Myra had said. But he was here now, looking up at the small, new build apartment building, where he would find John Paul. Living with his boyfriend? Things must have changed since he had last seen John Paul. As he walked towards the building he saw a police car, followed by an ambulance draw up, and several uniformed people rushed into the apartment building. Although he wandered what was going on, he never thought that it would have anything to do with John Paul; after all, there were several apartments in that building, there were probably 20 or so people living there. So why did he have an odd, apprehensive feeling in his stomach? It couldn't have been nerves. He was just a guy, looking up an old boyfriend. Someone he had dated for a while. So why did he have a feeling he might not be welcome?

The door of the apartment building was pulled open in front of him, as even more policemen arrived. He followed them up a flight of stairs never imagining that they were going to the same flat. He saw the policemen walking to the door to the right, so he immediately looked to the right, where he was greeted by a brass '4'. Then he looked to the left. He couldn't see the number on the door, but now he knew it was a '3'. He walked towards the door, slowly and cautiously. Did he really want to see what was the other side of the doorway?

He hadn't realised that he was holding his breath until he saw John Paul for the first time. He was lying by a dark haired man, surrounded by blood, a female paramedic talking to him. Trying to persuade him to let her put the man onto a stretcher, so they could take him away. As he let the breath out slowly, he suddenly became aware of two things. One, then man lying on the ground must be John Paul's boyfriend. Two, that man wasn't who he had thought he was going to come face to face with. He had been expecting a dark haired man, that was true. But a skinny, younger man. A man he had always hated, and that wasn't him.

"Did you know Kieron Hobbs?"

The policeman's words penetrated his mind, breaking through the confusion that had entered it. He shook his head. Kieron Hobbs? He had never heard that name before.

"Can I ask you a few questions, sir?"

He tried to pull his eyes away from the scene in front of him. He had never seen John Paul so devastated, so heartbroken. The policeman led him away from the scene, pausing to talk to a tall lanky man. They walked into a bedroom, on the right side of a corridor, and the policeman sat him down.

The policeman asked him several questions, all of which he had answered honestly. i_He had come here tonight to look up an old friend, John Paul McQueen. No, he hadn't been expected. No, he had never met Kieron Hobbs. John Paul and him had been out of contact for a year. No he didn't know of any enemies John Paul would have. Why was that relevant, John Paul wasn't the one who was dead?/i_ He provided the police with Myra's address, she would be more helpful, he was sure. She had defiantly known John Paul's boyfriend. Kieron, he reminded himself.

The rest of that night had passed in a blur. When the policeman had finished asking his questions, and he had returned to the living room of the flat, John Paul had gone. He wasn't sure where. The other man was still there, waiting to get into his room, so he could collect some things, since the police were closing off the flat as a crime scene. The stranger introduced himself briefly as Niall, but they didn't talk for long. He left the flat, and went back to Chester, to the hostel he had been staying at. He made up his mind to prolong his visit for a few more days, so he could go and see if John Paul was alright.

--

He was jolted back to reality when Michaela McQueen pulled open the front door.

"You?!" Her tone was both questioning, but also friendly.

"Me." He replied, nodding.

"Haven't seen you in ages."

"I was wondering if I might be able to see John Paul."

"You can try," came another voice from inside the house. It was Myra McQueen's voice. "He hasn't been letting anyone in his room. But you're welcome to try."

He stepped into the house, as Michaela walked out of it. "Don't be back too late!" shouted Myra after her.

"I won't" shouted Michaela back.

Myra motioned towards the stairs. "Go on up. You remember where his room is?"

He nodded. He had been there enough times.

Walking up the stairs, his apprehension only grew. He didn't know if John Paul would want to see him, not after so long, and not at a time like this. But he had to try.

As he walked onto the landing, he saw that John Paul's door was slightly open. He pushed it wider.

"John Paul, can I come in?"

John Paul was stirred from his silent thoughts. He cursed the fact that his immobility had prevented him from locking his door. That thought meant that it took him a minute to process the voice he had heard, to remember whom it belonged to; it had been a while since he had last heard that voice. Slowly, he lifted his head, and looked into the brown eyes of his visitor.

"Spike?"


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

"Spike?"

John Paul thought he might be hallucinating. He certainly hadn't been sleeping well. Why would Spike be here? Why would Spike be in his head? It was an odd hallucination. He looked at Spike questioningly, waiting for a response.

"Hi John Paul." Spike walked further into John Paul's room, until he was standing by that familiar bed. Although the room was familiar, it was also different. None of the posters or photos on the walls were John Paul's, and there was a lot of make up and girly clothes stashed around the place. Obviously one of the McQueen girls had been pushed out of there to make room. John Paul didn't seem to care. It didn't look like he really cared about anything much. He was wearing what might have been a nice looking shirt, a few days ago, but was now crumpled, and jeans that looked like they had been slept in. If you could call lying on a bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing for some relief, sleep.

John Paul didn't reply to Spike's comment, he continued to stare at him, questioningly. When Spike realised that John Paul was searing for an explanation, he said, "I was going to pay a flying visit, catch up for old time's sake, a couple of days ago. But then I heard what happened.

John Paul remained silent. Happy, carefree Spike wasn't the person he most wanted to see right now.

"I thought you wouldn't want to see me. So I thought I'd give you some time."

Sounded like Spike had been doing a lot of thinking. That was a little unlike him.

"But I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Fine" mumbled John Paul.

Spike raised his eyebrows. He knew John Paul was not 'fine'.

"OK. Not fine." John Paul was still mumbling. "But Kieron just died. What do you want me to say?"

Spike shrugged.

"So how have things been?" he said as he sat down next to John Paul.

"Oh yeah, great!" Sarcasm was dripping from every syllable, but then John Paul became more serious. "It had been great actually. Whilst I've been with him. I don't know what I'm going to do with out him."

"Kieron?"

John Paul nodded.

"How long have you two…?"

"We were on and off a lot for a long while, since February I guess. Properly, since May, I guess. We've been engaged for the last two months." Was it really only two months? Two months since Kieron had come back from Aberdeen, two months since their last fight. Two of the happiest months of his life.

Kieron's face, the way he had smiled so widely when John Paul had asked him to marry him. It had been such a split second decision that he had thought Kieron would question it. He was so young, they had only been back together for a few days, but he hadn't. He had said yes, just as quickly as John Paul had asked him. They were both certain that they loved each other, and they were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

And now?

"You really loved him, didn't you?"

John Paul nodded.

This time, the tears didn't start. For the first time John Paul thought of Kieron, and he didn't think of what he missed about Kieron, he thought about all the things he loved about Kieron, and how they had made him the happiest man on earth.

"I love him." He said the words cautiously. Carefully. Maybe it was true that he _had_ loved Kieron, but he still loved him. Present tense. All the things that he had loved about him, still rang true. But they were all in his mind now, never to be witnessed again.

Suddenly, all those thoughts and memories came crashing down on top of him, and he couldn't help but relate them all to Spike.

"I love the way he used to bite his lip. The face he pulled when he really wanted something. The way he filled his clothes, his big broad shoulders, and his arse. Man, I loved that arse. The way he'd leave me little notes, when he got up earlier than me. The way his kisses used to make me tingle all over. The way he was never afraid to be seen with me in public, even though it was my fault he was ousted to the community. The way he used to take my hand, and reassure me. The way he always knew when I needed him. Not that way Spike! But that way too, actually. I always wanted him, and he always wanted me. And I love him with all of my heart, and I know he loved me too."

"Alright, now I'm jealous".

"I thought you didn't do jealous, Spike?" But the flicker of a smile across John Paul's face was all Spike needed.

"Do you feel like getting out of here. Getting some fresh air." _Some fresh air?_ he thought. He sounded like his father. But John Paul nodded. He had been cooped up in his room for two days solid, and maybe a walk would do him some good.

"Some fresh air? When did you turn into an old woman?"

And there, for that split second, was the old John Paul, a smile across his face, teasing Spike.

He couldn't believe someone had finally made him smile. It had been two days since he had lost the man he loved, and now he had finally smiled again. Hope was beginning to creep into the back of his mind again. Hope that one day things might feel better, that one day he would be able to smile when he thought of Kieron, thought of all the happy memories.

Spike was glad he had managed to persuade John Paul to go for a walk. He was also glad he had finally got his friend to let the flicker of a smile pass across his lips. It would be a long, tough haul, but one day John Paul would smile again.

The doorbell rang, just as John Paul reached it. He pulled it open to find Calvin and the female DI standing in front of him. Calvin pulled something off his belt, as he began to speak.

"John Paul McQueen, I am arresting you under suspicion of the murder of Kieron Hobbs. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

He was standing in the shadows, staring at the McQueen house, were his ex-boyfriend was. Where John Paul was. He hadn't seen him since he had gone to Dublin, 12 months ago. 12 long months. 12 lonely months. 12 months of longing, wishing to be back here with him. And then, when he had finally come home…

--Flashback--

He had walked into The Dog at lunchtime, carrying nothing but a rucksack.

Kris whistled. "Craig Dean. Didn't think we'd ever see your ugly mug in here again."

Kris got Craig's attention quickly, and he looked over to see Kris talking to a tall, dark haired stranger, who had just sunk half his pint in one go.

"Another one, Kieron."

Craig watched as Kris pulled this 'Kieron' another pint.

"Craig, I don't suppose you've met Kieron Hobbs. Kieron, this is Craig, your John Paul's ex."

"I know." mumbled Kieron, gulping at his pint. Craig just stood shocked. '_your John Paul_?

And Craig, this is Kieron. John Paul's fiancé.

Craig choked. _John Paul's fiancé?_

Kieron and Craig's eyes met for the first time. The silence was almost unbearable, laden with tension. Neither wanted to be the first to break eye contact.

"Alright, guys, the tension is killing me!"

As usual, it was Kris who had the first words.

Kieron stood up, mumbling, "I've got to go."

Craig was still stuck in place. His brain echoing the same thought. Kieron. John Paul's fiancé. Kieron. John Paul's fiancé.

He didn't say anything, but as Kieron left the pub, Craig followed him. Far enough behind, that Kieron didn't know he was being followed, or if he knew he couldn't care, but near enough that he could keep track of his direction.

Eventually they arrived at a newish apartment block. Craig followed Kieron into the building, very close now, and up the stairs. Kieron must know Craig was following him, but neither man said a word. Kieron unlocked the door of flat 3, and held the door open for Craig.

Craig didn't know how far from The Dog he was; how long he had walked, how far he had followed Kieron. But now he found himself in the open plan living room of a flat.

"What are you doing here?"

Kieron was the first to speak, the first to break the icy silence, the first to put thoughts into words.

Craig didn't know what to say. The answer, that he had come back for John Paul, that he had spent a year constantly thinking of his blue eyed lover – _ex-lover _– couldn't be put into words. Not in front of John Paul's fiancé.

"Did you come back here for him?"

Kieron's words were measured. Calm. Or at least that was how it felt to Craig. And somehow this older man was reading him like a book.

"Do you still love him?"

Still Craig hadn't been able to give an answer. He didn't need to – the answer was written across his face.

But his emotions were still hidden, even from him. As he kept repeating his new-found mantra, _Kieron, John Paul's fiancé_, over and over again in his mind, all he felt was numb. He thought he should feel sad. Devastated. Heart-broken. But all he felt was numb.

_Kieron. John Paul's fiancé._

And then anger hit him. A great cascade of emotion, crashing down on top of him. How could this man have taken his soul mate away from him. What did this man, this _Kieron_ have that he didn't? He was no better looking, no smarter, no better! So why had John Paul chosen him over Craig. Over his first love, his soul mate?

Anger is irrational, hate often more so. Perhaps that was why Craig's eyes slid to the frying pan, laying on the washing up rack by the sink behind Kieron. Maybe that was why he picked it up. Maybe that was why he swung it at Kieron's head. Maybe that was why, merely 10 seconds later, the man that Craig hated so much, the man that John Paul loved so much, was laying on the floor, unconscious.

Maybe.

Craig didn't know.

He hadn't been thinking clearly. He didn't know what he was doing.

And maybe that was why he had turned and run. Run back to the safety of The Dog. The pub he had once called 'home.'

--

But now, he was standing in the shadows, still staring at the McQueen house. He wanted to see John Paul, to apologise, to try to explain, but then a police car pulled up.

Two people came out of the police car, an officer, and a detective. He watched them as they walked up to the McQueen's front door, and knocked on it. He watched John Paul open the door, and saw Spike behind him. He watched in disbelief, as the policeman arrested, then cautioned, then handcuffed John Paul. And he remained hiding in the shadows as he watched the police officers walk John Paul down the drive, push him into the squad car, and drive away. He was still watching the road when he heard a voice behind him.

"Tell me you didn't do this."

Spike's words were said quietly into his ear. He didn't even know that Spike had seen him, and he couldn't answer his words. There was only one reason the police were arresting John Paul, and it was _his _fault. He had done this. He had killed Kieron. Hit him over the head with a frying pan, and when he had been knocked unconscious, he had run away. Not cared about Kieron's well being or any of the consequences.

Was John Paul being arrested for something _he_ had done?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N I would like to thank XxXCrookshanksXxXP3 for your reviews. So, um, thanks!

**Part 7**

"Interview with John Paul McQueen, Monday 8th September. DI Pattenden and DS Williams present, as is the duty solicitor, Mr Green.

Interview commences at 5:14 pm."

DI Pattenden, the female DI who had been present at John Paul's arrest, earlier that day, began the questioning.

"Please state your full name for the record."

"John Paul Anthony Sebastian McQueen."

"Mr McQueen, what was your relationship to the deceased, Mr Kieron Hobbs."

"He was my fiancé."

"Was your relationship a happy one?"

"Yes!" John Paul was slightly indignant.

DI Pattenden decided to change tack. She picked up a sealed plastic bag from underneath the table. Inside it was a kitchen knife.

"For the benefit of the tape, DI Pattenden has placed evidence object 5967A in front of the suspect."

"Mr McQueen. Have you seen this knife before?"

John Paul nodded.

"For the benefit of the tape, the suspect has nodded his head."

"When was the last time you saw this knife?"

"Friday night. Me and Kieron were washing up after dinner."

* * *

--Flashback--

Niall had generously cooked, before going out, which left John Paul and Kieron with an empty flat, and some dirty dishes.

It was Kieron who walked towards the sink first, filling it with hot, soapy water whilst John Paul watched. When Kieron realised John Paul hadn't moved he threw some of the bubble as his young fiancé.

"C'mon. It'll be done in no time, if we both help out."

Kieron picked up a tea towel, and offered it to John Paul, a pleading look on his face.

"Bite your lip, and I might just think about it," joked John Paul with a smile.

"Please. I'll make it worth your while" said Kieron, biting his lip as requested.

John Paul nodded, smiling, the look of conquest in his eyes, and finally accepted the proffered tea towel, only to flick it back at Kieron's bum.

"Oy!" said Kieron, throwing bubbles at John Paul, and looking around for another towel.

Kieron found another tea towel, and flicked it at John Paul's behind, narrowly missing, as John Paul jumped out the way. Kieron tried again, this time with more success.

The two men played for a few minutes, before Kieron grabbed John Paul's shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss, cleverly pealing the tea towel from his hands at the same time.

"If I can't trust you with this, I'll just have to do the wiping myself."

"How do I know I can trust you with the tea towel?" asked John Paul, grabbing the tea towel back.

Kieron smiled, and shrugged, flicking John Paul again, but then he turned to the sink, and picked up a plate, scrubbing it quickly before handing it to John Paul.

John Paul took the plate and cleaned it, quickly and slightly inefficiently, but he wanted to get the cleaning up done as quickly as possible. After all, they had the flat all to themselves that night.

A little time later, the boys were onto their final item of washing up - the knife Niall had been using to cut the potatoes they had eaten with dinner. It was a large, sharp knife, and it was Niall's pride and joy. John Paul dried it, and then slid it into the drawer before turning to Kieron.

"So, you said you were going to make this worth my while?"

Kieron smiled, and pulled John Paul close to him. Their lips crashed together, as Kieron cupped John Paul's face in his hands, and John Paul wove his hand into Kieron's hair.

They remained in the embrace until neither could breathe, and then, as they pulled apart, their hands began roaming, pulling off t-shirts and jeans, leaving a trail of discarded clothing behind them as they made their way to their bedroom.

* * *

"Mr McQueen, this knife has only one set of fingerprints on it, and they belong to you. Furthermore, forensics have established that this was the knife with which Kieron Hobbs was murdered. I will ask you this only once, did you kill Kieron Hobbs?"

John Paul looked stunned. _No!_ he wanted to scream. _Not in a million years_, but instead he was silent. Speechless. The question had wrenched him, unwillingly, from his reminiscence, and it was completely ridiculous.

Being arrested on the suspicion of Kieron's murder was bad enough, but he thought it was just a police mistake. They had evidence, from where he did not know. Were they going to charge him? Was he going to be forced to stand trial, to defend himself in a court of law? When was this nightmare going to end?

"Mr McQueen, where were you between the hours of 12 and 2pm on the afternoon of the 6th of September?"

Finally a question he could answer. "I was in Chester, in a record store."

"Were there any witnesses to this?"

"None that I know personally, but there were people in the shop, yeah."

"Do you know the name of the record store you were in?"

"Dave's Discs"

"And an address?" DI Pattenden was writing these down now.

"Malet Street, um number 57 I think." She nodded, and made a mental note to check his alibi out.

"Right. Now would you please relate to me what happened on the morning of the 6th of September?"

"Well, I woke up about 10, had breakfast and headed into town about 11:30."

"And you spoke to Mr Hobbs that morning."

"Yes, we had breakfast together."

* * *

--Flashback--

John Paul had awoken before Kieron that Saturday morning, an unusual occurrence for the pair of them. He was lying on his side, facing his fiancé, and simply lay there, watching Kieron sleep for a while. He was amazed that his life could turn out so wonderfully, that he had found the man he was going to spend the rest of his life with, and he liked to savour that feeling as often as possible.

"Would you please stop doing that?"

"Doing what?"

Kieron hadn't opened his eyes, but he was obviously awake, and a smile was now creeping across his face.

"Watching me. I don't get why you do it."

"Because you're amazing." John Paul planted a kiss on Kieron's lips. "And gorgeous" he added another, "and I love you."

John Paul had intended the third kiss to be just as swift as the first two, but Kieron had other ideas. He lifted his hand up to John Paul's head, entwining his fingers in John Paul's hair as he deepened the kiss. When John Paul finally pulled away, Kieron barely had the breath to whisper "I love you too, John Paul."

John Paul smiled. He loved the way Kieron said his name, it meant so many things, some of which only Kieron knew, and they way he said it always sounded subtly different, like he was hearing Kieron say it for the very first time.

As John Paul watched, Kieron glanced at the clock, and then sat up in bed. John Paul couldn't tell what Kieron was thinking, so he was surprised when Kieron got up from the bed, and walked towards the door, but the way he glanced back over his shoulder conveyed his meaning simply. John Paul followed Kieron into the bathroom.

**--**

After their shower, John Paul and Kieron raided the flat's kitchen cupboards in search of breakfast. Kieron eventually settled on muesli, with John Paul opting for honey on toast. Just as they were about to sit down, Kieron looked startled, like he had suddenly remembered something, and walked out the flat's front door.

John Paul was confused, but decided to keep himself occupied by making two mugs of tea, and was slightly relieved when, three minutes later, Kieron walked back into the flat holding two envelopes. He placed one, addressed to "N Rafferty" on the coffee table, and opened the other.

John Paul couldn't see what was written in the letter from where he was standing, so he decided to ask Kieron what it was.

"Anything interesting?"

"Hmm," Kieron was engrossed by his letter. "No, just some, um, family stuff." Kieron wasn't good at hiding his lie, but since John Paul trusted that Kieron would tell him if it was anything important, he let it slide. He watched Kieron walk over to the dining table, whilst folding the letter, still in its envelope, into his pocket.

"Have you got any plans for today? I was thinking we could go into town. There's a few new records I wanted to get, if you can deal with the boredom."

John Paul expected Kieron to smile. They had been record shopping once before, and after an hour of Kieron being extremely patient, following John Paul around his favourite record store, he had had enough, and he had told John Paul so. But Kieron wasn't smiling, there were looks of concern and concentration mingling in his eyes.

"No, I've got something I need to do this morning. I need to go and talk to your mother about something."

Kieron was being extremely cagey, and it worried John Paul. Kieron had also started to eat his muesli extremely quickly.

"About what?"

"I'll tell you later, but I need to talk to Myra first." Kieron suddenly lost his worried look. "How about we meet up in The Dog later, when were you planning to be back from town?"

"About 6, I guess"

Kieron nodded, "so shall we say 6pm, in The Dog."

"Sounds like a plan" said John Paul smiling. He was quite intrigued by Kieron's behaviour, by why he had to see Myra, and by what must be in that letter.

"Good" said Kieron, as he lay his spoon down, his cereal now finished. "Sorry, I must be acting really strangely." Reality had suddenly hit Kieron, but John Paul simply shook his head.

"Don't worry. I can tell something's bothering you, but I know you'll tell me in your own time."

"Thanks" said Kieron simply, and he kissed John Paul full on the lips. "I'll see you later" he added as he stood up and walked towards the door.

John Paul followed him, and as Kieron opened the door, he turned, and they kissed once more, this time, a long lingering kiss, from which neither of them was particularly eager to part.

As John Paul watched Kieron walking down the corridor, he didn't know that that was the last time he would see his fiancé alive, that that was the last kiss they would every share, or that that morning was the last time he would be perfectly, blissfully happy in a long while.

* * *

"Was your relationship with Mr Hobbs an amicable one?"

DI Pattenden's question interrupted John Paul's reminiscence.

Amicable? That word was hardly sufficient to describe John Paul and Kieron's relationship. Loving, and adoring, and passionate and exciting, and exhilarating, and blissfully happy, were all much better descriptions of their relationship. It was all those things, and so much more.

"How long have you and Mr Hobbs been engaged?"

"2 months."

"And before that, how long had you been together?"

It was a difficult question to answer. A week? That was how long it had been since their last breaking up, since Kieron had returned from Aberdeen. 2 months? Since they had made amends after he had stupidly told Mercedes the truth? 5 months? Since that kiss at the fashion show, and he had realised how attracted he was to the then priest?

"On and off for about 5 months." It wasn't quite a lie.

"5 months. That is a short time for anyone to get engaged, let alone someone so young." The DI failed to hide the shock from her voice. "Who was it who asked the other?"

"Me."

* * *

--Flashback--

They had been talking, standing on The Dog patio, leaning against the railings that stood at that side of the pond. They had been talking about family, both John Paul's and Kieron's. It had been the first time Kieron had really spoken to John Paul about his family, his parents and his siblings down south, and it had made John Paul think a little. Maybe it had been the alcohol, or maybe simply the love he felt for Kieron, but one thing came to him suddenly and completely.

He wanted Kieron to be his family.

He wanted to be with Kieron forever.

He wanted Kieron to know that.

"Kieron?"

Suddenly he was down on one knee. He didn't even have a ring, it was so spontaneous, and impromptu.

"Will you marry me?"

Kieron looked stunned for a second, but it was only a momentary hesitation. As tears began to well up in his eyes, tears of love and happiness, he replied "Yes, John Paul, I will marry you."

Kieron pulled John Paul up from the ground and into an embrace. Their lips crashed together in the most perfect kiss imaginable. John Paul had experienced some fantastic kisses in his time, but this one was indescribably wonderful. He was going to be married. He was going to spend the rest of his life with Kieron Hobbs, and that realisation was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"So, going back to the 6th of September, what time did you leave Dave's Discs?" DI Pattenden's questioning was quite confusing, jumping from one line to another, almost like she was trying to crack him, to break him, to make him confess. To make him admit to something, something he hadn't done.

"3pm."

"And after that, did you stay in Chester, or return to Hollyoaks?"

"I stayed in town until about 5pm"

"And after that?" The questions were brisk now, coming hard and fast.

"I went to a pub, The Dog in the Pond."

"Can anyone verify that?"

"My sister, Mercedes McQueen."

"Were you meeting anyone at the pub?"

"Yes, Kieron."

"How long did you wait before you realised he wasn't going to show?"

"About three hours."

"And when you realised he wasn't going to turn up?"

"I rang my mother, to see if she had seen him."

"Your mother?"

"Yes, Myra McQueen."

"Why her?"

"Kieron had mentioned he was going to see her, I wanted to know if I wasn't the only person he had let down."

"And she said?"

"That she hadn't seen him."

"And after you spoke to your mother?"

"I headed back to our flat. I wanted to see if he was there?"

"Had you tried ringing him?"

"Yes, several times. It went to voicemail, each time."

"And what time did you arrive back at the flat?"

"9:30pm."

"And what did you do then?"

"I walked in, I saw Kieron lying on the floor, and I… I…" John Paul's voice broke. As the memory of that terrible sight came back to him, he began to cry again.

He couldn't speak for five full minutes. Five minutes in front of two police officers, and a duty solicitor, trying to calm himself.

Once John Paul was ready for questioning again, the onslaught re-commenced.

"The police were not called until 11:30pm, and the 999 call was made by a Niall Rafferty, your flatmate, is that correct."

John Paul nodded.

"Why did you not make that call?"

"I was too distraught."

"But what if Kieron had not been dead when you found him? If an ambulance had been called immediately, he might not have died."

"He was dead."

"How can you be sure?"

John Paul couldn't answer. He was sure, he knew with his whole heart that Kieron had been dead when he walked through that door, but he didn't hold a medical degree, and he hadn't called an ambulance immediately, he couldn't _prove_ that Kieron had been dead.

"How can you prove he was dead when you walked through that door?"

"I can't" admitted John Paul, his voice barely a whisper.

"And in that two hours, with Kieron unconscious on the floor, you would have had plenty of time to stab him with the knife you knew was in the kitchen, dispose of the evidence, then play the grieving boyfriend for when your flatmate came in, wouldn't you?"

_Wait, what? _John Paul looked completely confused. This women really thought he had killed Kieron.

"We have all the evidence John Paul. A murder weapon with only your finger prints on it, opportunity, even if you didn't lay him our with the frying pan, you had the opportunity to stab him, and motive. What was your motive, John Paul? Did you think this relationship was progressing too fast? Did you resent that you were getting married so quickly. Were you seeing someone else, and you needed to get Kieron out of the way?"

John Paul remained speechless. Completely without the words needed to contradict this seemingly insane woman, throwing these accusations at him.

"John Paul McQueen, I will ask you again, did you murder, Kieron Hobbs?"

"No!" said John Paul, almost aggressively.

"Interview suspended, 7:14pm"


	8. Chapter 8

A/N Thank you CherryLove23 and XxXCrookshanksXxXP3 for your loveley reviews! Hopefully you'll like this chapter, it's a bit drabbley. And hopefully the next update won't take quite as long.

**Part 8**

It was 2 o'clock in the morning, but Craig wasn't sleeping. He was lying on a bed in The Dog, staring at the ceiling. Had it really only been 10 hours ago, 10 long hours since he had witnessed John Paul's arrest for a murder he had committed; the murder of Kieron Hobbs. _Murder? Me?_

If you'd have asked him a week ago, he wouldn't have thought himself capable of it, and yet now? He could hardly believe it, but he knew it was true. He knew he had killed Kieron Hobbs. A week ago, he had been planning a return trip to Hollyoaks; a week ago he had been planning on rekindle his romance with John Paul. A week ago he had thought he would come back and everything would be the same. Nothing was the same. John Paul was engaged to another man, and so obviously in love with him, Craig had met an old friend. Jealousy. And that jealousy had driven him mad, driven him into aggression, driven him to murder.

He, Craig Dean had killed another man, Kieron Hobbs. He still didn't quite believe it, didn't believe he was capable of murder, but it was true. But it wasn't that he had killed a man, that broke his heart. It was the fact that he hadn't visited John Paul, and confessed to him, apologised to him. It was the fact that he had watched the police arrest John Paul, and he still hadn't spoken out. It was the fact that John Paul was in love with another man. It still broke his heart, in a way he never imagined it would do. He wondered if he would feel any different if he hadn't killed Kieron. If the heartbreak would be any easier if he hadn't betrayed John Paul like that.

Those two previous nights, heartbreak and jealousy had been driving him mad, driving him to insomnia, but amongst those emotions, Craig had lost one. Guilt. He had killed another human being, and he hadn't even felt guilty. That emotion hadn't dawned on him until that evening, when the police had taken John Paul away. When the impact of his action on the man he still had feelings for, were suddenly realised to him. Until that point he had been able to justify his actions, if only to himself, as a moment of aggression. But now he knew he was wrong, and he couldn't let John Paul be blamed for his actions. But in the morning he would go and talk to John Paul; he had to go and talk to John Paul.

Craig sighed, as he stared at the ceiling, trying to sleep. This insomnia was draining him, and he tried to fight it, just as he was trying to fight the memory of watching John Paul's arrest. Another worrying thought crossed his mind: Spike's words. Had Spike already seen through his façade?

* * *

It was 3 o'clock in the morning, but Spike wasn't sleeping. He was lying on a bed, in a B&B in Chester, trying to understand that days events. Had it really been only hours ago, when he had witnessed his ex-boyfriend, John Paul McQueen arrested for the murder of Kieron Hobbs. _Murder? John Paul?_

There was no way John Paul had murdered Kieron Hobbs. Not only had he looked so completely, desperately heartbroken when Spike had seen him, there was no way John Paul could have killed anyone, let alone a man he was so obviously in love with. And Spike had born witness to those moments when the paramedics had taken Kieron away. John Paul couldn't have killed Kieron; if he had done, surely that wouldn't have been his reaction.

No, John Paul was innocent, Spike knew that. But if John Paul hadn't killed Kieron, then who had? His brief words with Craig earlier had been impulsive, based on the look of not only shock, but also guilt, that he had seen on his face. All he had wanted was a denial, he hadn't expected a confession, he didn't think Craig was the killer, but when Craig had ran away, without another word to Spike, it had done nothing to avail his suspicions. Had Crag Dean been the one to kill Kieron?

Spike hadn't seen Craig in a year either. He had heard that Craig had moved to Dublin, and that John Paul hadn't, and he had thought that had been an end to their relationship. Why was Craig back in Hollyoaks? Had Craig known about John Paul and Kieron? If he had, then why would he kill the man? Jealousy? Anger? John Paul was no more Craig's than he was Spike's, but did Craig still feel John Paul should be his? Did Craig still have feelings for John Paul? Supposing Craig did and he hadn't known John Paul had moved on, fallen in love, what would his reaction have been to John Paul or John Paul's fiancé? Jealousy certainly, Spike knew Craig was a jealous person, and could that jealousy have provoked an act of aggression, an act so violent that it had left Kieron dead. Was that why Craig had run away when confronted? Surely Craig wasn't a murderer, but perhaps an accident could explain this.

It didn't explain why the police thought John Paul had done it, though.

Spike sighed. This was what came form insomnia; too many thoughts and ideas. He resolved to go and find Craig the next day, to talk to him perhaps, try to work out what was going on. Maybe find out who really did kill Kieron. John Paul didn't deserve to be locked up in a police station, but someone out there must. Perhaps John Paul and Kieron's flatmate Niall would know something.

* * *

It was 4 o'clock in the morning, but Niall wasn't sleeping. He was lying awake in his bed, just as he had done the two preceding nights. He hadn't slept since he had murdered his friend, Kieron Hobbs. _Murder? Me?_

He had committed murder once before, but it had been an accident. This was different. He had stabbed his friend, Kieron Hobbs in the neck, in cold blood. He had seen the opportunity; Kieron had been unconscious, lying on the floor, when Niall had walked into the flat. He had seen an opportunity to shatter his brother's happiness once and for all. He had picked up a tea towel, wrapped it around his right hand, and pulled a knife out from a drawer. But he had been about to slit Kieron's throat, when his friend had begun to stir. To regain consciousness. It had been one of those now or never moments, and Niall had taken it, plunging the knife into Kieron's throat.

There had been blood. So much blood, spurting from Kieron's neck. Niall had severed an artery, but at least it meant Kieron's death was quick. Niall had stood there, transfixed. He had killed his friend, Kieron. Kieron, who had always paid the rent, often been up for a drink, and Niall had liked him. He had been one of the few people in his life he had ever liked. Niall had always distanced himself from people, never forming long term friendships or relationships with anyone. But he had with Kieron, and he couldn't let people get too close. And now, Kieron was dead. He had paid the price for becoming a friend of Niall Rafferty. And John Paul was devastated, a definite bonus for Niall, he hated the man with every fibre of his being. Hated for having the life he, Niall, had deserved. For having a stable family, for having sisters who loved him, for having a mother who loved him. Niall wished he had had a mother who loved him. Maybe if his foster mothers had been kinder, he wouldn't have harboured so much loathing towards his birth mother, Myra, and her children. But his life hadn't been as lucky as that. No one had ever wanted him as their son.

Niall sighed. He hated that feeling of loneliness he felt on nights like these. It was always magnified by insomnia, and he had been sleeping badly lately. He had killed the only friend he had ever really had. He didn't even feel guilty for doing it, he just felt lonely. Empty. The only spark of hope he had, was that he had made one person's life an even deeper misery than his own. He had ripped John Paul McQueen's world apart, and in his mind, that was his greatest achievement.

* * *

It was 5 o'clock in the morning, but John Paul wasn't sleeping. He was lying on the cold, hard bed, staring at the ceiling; he hadn't moved in 8 hours. He hadn't moved since he had been lead into the cell, after he had been questioned following his arrest; his arrest for the murder of his fiancé, Kieron Hobbs. _Murder? Me?_

If anything was keeping John Paul just on the sane side of madness, it was his knowledge that he was innocent. Whatever the police thought, John Paul knew he hadn't killed Kieron. The knife was just a coincidence, and the police would realise that sooner or later, sooner he hoped, but he hadn't killed Kieron. He couldn't believe they thought he could ever hurt Kieron, let alone kill him.

The tears he had been crying all night were welling up in his eyes again. If he hadn't been so sad, so lonely and so heartbroken, he would have been frustrated, and angry. Determined to prove himself innocent. But in that cold cell, at this idiotic hour in the morning, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything other than despair. When they had locked him up, a little before 8 o'clock in the evening, he had been angry. He had wanted to proclaim his innocence, to defend himself, but now? Locked in that cell with only himself and his thoughts for company, those feelings had dwindled, and even his hope was fading. His thoughts turned to what he had lost, to whom he had lost. To Kieron.

The tears were falling again as he thought of Kieron, as he thought of the man he loved, and had lost. He felt like nothing could ever shift these feelings of loss, and despair, and hopelessness, and loneliness. He was the most alone he had ever been in his entire life that night, locked in that cell, and it wasn't by choice. Getting through that night alone, felt like the most impossible thing, let alone getting through the next day. The next week. He couldn't even contemplate time after that; he didn't want to. He knew he didn't want to go on without Kieron. He wasn't sure he could, if the police didn't realise he didn't, couldn't have, killed Kieron.

John Paul was choked with tears, tears he tried to fight, as the minutes turned into hours and the night dragged on. As he tried to fall asleep, simply to be relieved of his emotions for a little while. But sleep wouldn't come to him, not that night. And as he watched the light drift in from the small window above his cell, as he watched it get brighter and brighter as the day dawned, he didn't think he would ever sleep again.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you for reading and thanks especially to my reviewers, CherryLove23 and XxXCrookshanksXxXP3!!

**Part 9**

"John Paul McQueen!"

John Paul sat up from the hard bed he had spent hours lying on. He didn't know the time, only that it felt like an age had passed whilst he had been inside that cell. The dawn had come only 2 hours before, but to him it felt like 2 days.

John Paul squinted at the policeman, waiting at the entrance to his cell. He vaguely expected him to have breakfast, or even a drink, but instead he was motioning to John Paul that he should walk towards him. John Paul obeyed, dragging his lifeless body to its feet, and walked towards the entrance of the cell, his eyes still adapting to the electric lights in the corridor outside.

"You have a visitor" said the gruff, old Sergeant. John Paul followed as the Sergeant led him through a maze of corridors. Eventually he found himself at the door to a small meeting room, and the Sergeant opened the door. Inside someone was sat who John Paul had never thought he would see again: Craig Dean.

John Paul hesitated in the doorway for a second, before walking over to the table and sitting down opposite Craig. The setup was oddly formal, and John Paul felt awkward as he watched the Sergeant close the door. There was a two-way mirror along one wall, and John Paul wondered if they were being watched, or listened to. He was reluctant to talk to Craig, unsure of why he was here; Craig seemed to be just as reluctant to start talking.

"Why did you come here, Craig?" John Paul finally broke the silence.

"I came to see you. There's," Craig faltered. "There's something you should know.

"What?"

"I, I," Craig was faltering again. He knew this was going to be hard, especially since he hadn't seen John Paul in so long, but he hadn't expected to be greeted with such, such what? It might have almost been anger, but Craig could tell the anger wasn't directed at him, and there was another emotion etched across John Paul's face: ambivalence. John Paul, who must have expected never to see him again, seemed not to care that he was here. Craig didn't quite understand, but he knew it must have something to do with Kieron's death, perhaps a desire not to feel emotion anymore, and yet now, now Craig was going to have to tell John Paul the truth. Tell John Paul that he, Craig, killed Kieron. Killed the man that John Paul now loved. Craig had known, within seconds of John Paul walking through the door of that room, that whilst he still loved John Paul, those feelings were far from reciprocated now. And whilst it broke his heart, he knew he had to tell John Paul the truth; he owed him that at least.

"John Paul," began Craig, trying desperately to summon strength from somewhere. "I killed Kieron." John Paul's expression changed, instantly to one of shock and confusion. "I'm so sorry, I was angry and I was jealous, and I hit him over the head with a frying pan."

John Paul was stunned. He didn't know what to say. To be honest, he hadn't really heard what Craig had said after those three little words, which had felt like daggers to his heart. _I killed Kieron_. Why? Why would Craig do such a thing? The next sentence Craig had spoken was starting to filter through into his brain now. _I was angry and I was jealous_. Well those weren't reasons, they were pathetic, even as excuses. And then the last part dawned on him. _I hit him over the head with a frying pan._

"You didn't kill him" said John Paul quietly.

It was Craig's turn to be shocked. "What?"

"You didn't kill him. Kieron," tears, which had slowly been building up since Craig's revelation were starting to choke John Paul, making it hard for him to speak. He swallowed, before glancing around the room again. He was desperate for a glass of water, for something, anything, to drink. Finally he felt composed enough to continue the sentence. "Kieron was stabbed." Three of the hardest words he had ever said. It was the first time he had said them; he hadn't even told Spike the truth about Kieron's death, about Kieron's murder.

John Paul was crying now, unable to stop the flow of tears from his eyes.

"He was stabbed?" asked Craig. John Paul merely nodded, words were currently impossible. "But I hit him over the head with a frying pan." John Paul nodded again. "I didn't kill him?" John Paul nodded a third time, and Craig let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. He hadn't killed Kieron Hobbs. It was a weight he had been carrying around for three days now, and it wasn't his to carry. _So who had killed Kieron? Surely it wasn't John Paul?_

"Craig, you still seriously injured him. And then you ran off?" John Paul wasn't meeting Craig's eyes anymore, he was staring at the table.

Craig nodded his head, guiltily.

"Go."

Craig's face formed a frown, a confused look directed at John Paul.

"You hurt the man that I love. I can't bear to look at you."

Craig still didn't move.

"Get Out!" shouted John Paul, his eyes still fixed to the table. He lifted them when he heard the door shut. He waited there, unsure of what to do next.

Outside the room, Craig located a police officer.

"I hit Kieron Hobbs over the head with a frying pan." He gabbled his confession to the first PC he saw. DI Pattenden overheard, and walked towards him.

"Would you say that again please, young man?"

He turned to face her, and repeated his sentence.

"Your name, please?"

"Craig Dean."

"Craig Dean, I am arresting you under suspicion of actual bodily harm towards Kieron Hobbs. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

Craig nodded, and DI Pattenden walked with him to an interview room, motioning to the PC he had initially spoken to that he follow her. When they reached the room she told him to wait with Craig in the room, whilst she fetched a duty solicitor.

DI Pattenden walked back to the room where John Paul was still sat. She had received additional forensic information that morning, and had been informed by the CPS that they had sufficient evidence to charge John Paul McQueen with the murder of Kieron Hobbs, but this new evidence might change things, at least in their eyes. It didn't change them in hers. As she looked through the two-way mirror at the young man, she was still convinced that he had murdered his fiancé; there was too much evidence to deny it. She located another PC, and asking him to take John Paul back to his cell, whilst she walked back up to her office, and made a call to the CPS.

* * *

At midday, John Paul was given his lunch. He did not know that Craig was being interviewed in another part of the station, nor that he had confessed to knocking Kieron unconscious. As he sipped the last of his water, the police sergeant he had met briefly earlier opened the door to his cell. The police sergeant was followed by the duty solicitor he had met the previous day, and DI Pattenden. She was the first to speak.

"John Paul McQueen. I am charging you with the murder of Kieron Hobbs, committed on the date of the 6th of September, 2008, in accordance with the Homicide Act of 1957."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N I'm not sure about this chapter, but I'm posting it anyway becuase it took me ages to write. As always, thanks to my lovely reviewers CherryLove23 and XxXCrookshanksXxXP3!

**Part 10**

He had been so sure that he needed to see John Paul's flatmate Niall the night before, but now, as he stood before the door, with its brass number 3, Spike wasn't so certain. He knocked on the door anyway, and waited, tentatively, for an answer. Two minutes later, the door was wrenched open, and an annoyed looking, tall, shaven haired man was standing behind it, glaring at him. He didn't say anything, and the awkward silence that ensued made it difficult for Spike to speak.

Mentally, Spike kicked himself. He had never let himself be intimidated before, why should he now?

"Are you Niall Rafferty, the man who lives in this flat with Kieron Hobbs and John Paul McQueen?"

Niall simply nodded. He didn't know who the man on his doorstep was, and he was annoying him. He had a feeling he was going to start asking questions, questions Niall certainly didn't want to answer. Was he some sort of reporter? An extremely inept one? He needed to get rid of him, in any case.

They could both hear someone walking up the stairs behind them, and along the corridor came Myra McQueen. A person who was defiantly likely to disrupt Niall's plans.

"Morning, Niall, Spike" said Myra, as she approached them. "I was wondering if I might pick up some of John Paul's stuff, Niall? You haven't seen him, have you, only he didn't come home last night."

Spike didn't know if Niall knew of John Paul's arrest, but it would seem Myra had no idea her son had spent the night in a police cell.

"No, Myra, I haven't seen him. Of course you can come in and get some of his things. Spike, would you like to come in too?"

The change in Niall's attitude threw Spike. One moment he had been intimidating, trying to prevent Spike from entering the flat, and now? Now he was charming, and helpful. _Why?_ wondered Spike.

Niall opened the door wider, to allow Spike and Myra to enter the flat. "John Paul's room was the one on the left, Myra. Did you want a cup of tea or coffee?"

"Tea please, Niall" replied Myra as she walked down the corridor to John Paul and Kieron's room. Spike stalled in the living room. A piece of paper lying on the floor, almost underneath one of the sofas had caught his eye. If his memory wasn't deceiving him, he thought that that piece of paper had been there when he had visited the flat three days earlier. With Niall's back turned, as he located tea bags and sugar, Spike bent down to pick up the paper. He could see now, that it was a letter, and that there was a photograph of Niall paper-clipped to it. He folded the letter, and stuffed it into his pocket, unwilling to let Niall see he had picked it up. There was something about that man that made him wary.

Niall turned around, holding a mug of tea, and handed it to Spike, motioning that he should take it to Myra. Niall hadn't offered Spike a cup of tea, and he wasn't intending to. He didn't like this man prying, especially since he had heard John Paul mention his name once or twice.

Spike walked down the corridor into John Paul's room, where he found Myra packing a bag with stripy hoodies. He smiled slightly; he remembered John Paul's love for stripes. He handed Myra her cup of tea, and pulled the letter out of his pocket. He didn't know if it was simply his curiosity, but he had a feeling he should read the letter. Sitting down on the bed, he pulled the photograph of Niall from the top of the letter and began to read.

_Kieron,_

_I did have a son who I believe was abandoned in a church, his name was Simon__. I have enclosed a photograph of him, which was taken when he was 13. I hope it will be of some use to you in your search._

_Simon__ came to live with us when he was 9. He was in a children's home before that, but I couldn't find their details, maybe you should ring Cheshire county council? His social worker told us he had been left in a church soon after he was born, I think it was in one of the papers, and the story defiantly matches the one you told me._

_As for where he is now, I am not sure. Simon left us in 1995 not long after he turned 16, and I haven't heard from him since. Andy, one of our other foster sons was in contact with him for a while, and I have an address and a phone number for him, which I have written on the back on this letter._

_I wish you luck in contacting Simon_

_Mrs Ruth Rees_

Spike was confused. This letter was referring to a man called Simon, who had been abandoned in a church, but the photo was clearly of the man standing in the living room. Of Niall.

Myra had had her back to Spike, whilst she folded more of John Paul's clothes into the bag she held, but she turned around to take a sip of her tea, and saw the photograph of Niall he had left laying on the bed. She picked it up, and her nosey nature took over. She took the letter Spike was holding and read it. She knew the significance of the letter, but she could hardly believe it. Kieron had found her firstborn son, the son she had abandoned in that church 28 years ago. Her firstborn son was Niall? It was clearly Niall, the photograph was clearly Niall. Did Niall know? Did Niall know she was his mother? Was this all just a strange coincidence?

Her hands trembling, she walked out of the room into the living room. When she saw Niall, when she saw his face, she involuntarily glanced down at the photograph, and Niall followed her gaze. Suddenly he knew he'd been caught out, and panic hit him. What should he do now? Feign ignorance? Embrace his treacherous mother? Pay her back for his long years of misery?

"Niall," her voice was shaking, as tears crept into her eyes. Tears of sadness at her adolescent mistake, and tears of joy at her reunion with her eldest son.

It came from nowhere. Neither parties had been expecting it, least of all Niall, and yet his right fist came flying up from where it was to connect with Myra's face. She was knocked backwards, staggering, trying to regain her balance, when he pushed her again.

"Bitch!" He spat the word at her. Years of anger and aggression were spilling out of him now. Years of blaming this women for every little thing wrong with his life, jealous of the happy life her and her other children led. That was all going to change now.

She had found her way to the sofa, and was sitting down, head in her hands, staring at the young man. Her confusion was written across her face, as was disbelief.

"Why?"

Niall finally voiced the question that had been tormenting him for those long years.

"Why did you leave me, abandon me? Why only me and none of the others?"

"I was young, I couldn't cope" came the mumbled reply, the feeble excuse. He was towering over her, and she was afraid, afraid to speak the words.

"You with your happy lives, your family spirit, your resilience. Impossible to tear apart, not when I assaulted your mother, not when I gave Michaela that overdose, not even when I made you find John Paul in bed with that priest! Well your pretty little son's going to pay for that now. Now his lovers dead and the police are convinced he did it."

"You killed Kieron" whispered Spike. "You framed John Paul."

He had been forgotten about, by both Niall and Myra, until then. Standing, watching the scene unravelling before him, witnessing but not intervening. But now he had to intervene. His hand had moved to his mobile phone, his thumb poised over the '9' as Niall moved towards him. He skirted around Niall and dodged out of the flat, thumb punching that key three times, before he made it out of the flat.

He called the police and waited. Waited until he heard the sirens. Waiting, hoping Myra would be alright, angry with himself for abandoning her, but knowing it was the only way, and he waited, watching as two uniformed policeman walked Niall Rafferty, or was that Simon McQueen, out of the apartment building, and into a squad car. He was still stood there when two paramedics escorted Myra from the building, her face badly bruised, but no worse than when Spike had run out. He could hear her shouting.

"I'm alright, it's only a bruise. I want to see my son, John Paul."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N Short end to this fic, It wasn't originally going to end like this, but then I started writing it, and this is what happened. Thank you to XxXCrookshanksXxXP3, CherryLove23 and JP184 for your reviews, and to everyone else who has Story Alert/Favourited/Read this story. Here's the end:

**Part 11**** – The Final part.**

He had blinked up at the bright sunlight, when he finally left the police station. It had been only 24 hours since he had last been outside, and yet it felt like an eternity. Less than half an hour before, he had been released from that small, dark cell, his mother bringing him the news that Niall was his brother. That Niall had killed Kieron. _Niall?_ He would ponder those thoughts later, but in that moment, it didn't matter that Niall had killed Kieron, only that the police had finally realised that it hadn't been him. He wanted to smile, he wanted to be happy. He was a free man! But he couldn't. He couldn't be happy because Kieron was dead. Kieron-love-of-his-life, the-man-he-was-going-to-be-with-forever-Hobbs, was dead.

The next week had passed in a daze. He had met Kieron's parents for the first time, although he couldn't remember what he had said to them, and he had met Kieron's friends, so many new faces he knew their names had gone before the conversations had ended. He had kept himself apart from his family, trying to deal in their own ways with the news about Niall, as he tried to reconcile the news that he had a murderous older brother. Niall had pleaded guilty, the trial simply a formality, but John Paul had forced himself to sit there, and listen to every last word that man said. That man he would have hated with all his heart, if it wasn't in pieces.

He had sat, quietly in the church, crying whilst Father Raymond conducted the funeral, whilst Kieron's brother read the eulogy. They had asked him if he wanted to do it, but he didn't have the words, knew there weren't enough words to describe what they had, and he'd declined. He knew then, sitting in the church, that he wouldn't have been able to speak, anyway.

And now? Now he was sitting, cross-legged in front of Kieron's grave. The newly engraved inscription was still clear, a week after they had buried him.

_**Kieron Hobbs**_

_A man much loved,_

_Taken too soon._

_1979-2008_

He'd sat there for hours, each day since then. The day they buried him, his mother had had to drag him away from the grave, so they could fill it in. He'd come back the next day, and the next, and it had quickly become a routine. He didn't cry anymore, he wasn't sure he would ever cry again, but he couldn't leave. Even though he knew why Kieron was dead, he couldn't leave him. He didn't want to. The man he loved was dead, was there any way to get over that?

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up, to see Stephanie Cunningham behind him. Steph, who had lost her husband, Max, on their wedding day.

"Does it get any easier?"

"Slowly. I know it doesn't seem like it will now, but time heals all wounds."

He nodded, mumbled a quick 'thank you', but remained seated in front of Kieron's grave.

"How about a drink?" Steph asked.

He looked back up at her, eager to refuse, unwilling to move from that place, but the look in her eye, that desire to help, even though her own pain was so recent, changed his mind. Nodding, he stood up, his muscles creaking at their unexpected usage, and they walked, to a little place called The Dog in the Pond, to talk over old times. As John Paul took a sip of his first pint since Kieron's death, he knew. It would be hard, and he would never stop loving Kieron, but things would get easier. One Day.

--The End--

Dislcaimer - I own nothing to do with Hollyoaks/Lime Pictures. So don't sue me.


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